


Kaa And The Kelpie

by ChangelingChilde



Category: Faerie Folklore, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Elves Are Terrific, Gen, Slytherin Pride, We Be Of One Blood Thou And I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 01:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18435857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChangelingChilde/pseuds/ChangelingChilde
Summary: There is a fae in Harry Potter's year.





	Kaa And The Kelpie

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Harriet Potter Is](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6109822) by [setepenre_set](https://archiveofourown.org/users/setepenre_set/pseuds/setepenre_set). 



When the lion woman spoke the name Mab Lankin, the beloved houses knew nothing. But the ones that knew and remembered went cold to the bones yet light of heart, for they knew house-elves from true elves to a one. Even those who were not of the blood knew well the meaning of those names, and an elder boy looked through an adder stone carefully. "Unseelie and waterborn; she'll fit in well."  
  
And when the girl was banished to the unloved, unlovely ones she smiled like a viper as she sat. "We be of one blood, thou and I. Fear not: I shall teach you all to swim before we ride, and hold you safe in the water as did Kaa to Mowgli."  
  
And a small boy next to her grinned and said, "The book really is better, isn't it?"  
  
Thus was the water princess accepted into the serpents' den.

 

Though the lion woman ended her first day speech with "Any questions?" she did not seem to expect one. Certainly not the question young Lankin asked.  
  
'Will you hate us in the name of tolerance? The broken ones who dwell here all say that you hate us, that you hate a quarter of the children here for the colors that we wear and all because of a man a thousand years ago who had good reason to fear witch hunts."

The lion just gaped for a bit. "Of course I won't, and ten poi--"

"Don't lie to me in such a blatant fashion. I'll never lie to you, don't lie to me."

And so was she first punished for honesty.

 

Lankin danced with ghosts on Halloween night, and swore to see the headmaster dead at her feet for sending half the school into danger without a thought. The meek and the vicious were not useful to him, so he never even considered their safety. But Lankin knew trolls, knew them well, and helped to set a trap. The creature never saw it coming.

 

A young boy of bad faith warned his father that summer that the Folk were on the rise, and one house elf was freed. It would not do to anger even the little people of the Fae, not when one named Lankin was about. Lankin was a call to war; the Folk would not send such if they meant all was well.

 

A second year came, and only the serpent children thought to cry for a beast turned weapon against its will.

"If you alone hear whispers in the walls and you alone know the tongue of serpents, what does that tell you?" Lankin asked the silly golden child.

"That it's a snake! But how did you know?"

"The walls have ears as well as voices," laughed Lankin. "Another thought for you: animals are not good or evil. Someone is making it do this. Have mercy, boy, if only with a strike of mercy."

"A what?"

But she was gone.

 

Year three the faerie's child stood down a dozen Dementors, who cringed back in fear from her as she danced down from the trees, leaving ruin in her wake. She needed no wand to make them fly from her, for they saw the ancient terrors dwelling in her eyes.

 

Year four brought a ship to the local lake. The boat brought myriad sea shanties to a certain set of serpent-lips, from “Farewell to Tarwathie” through “William Taylor” all the way to "What Shall We Do with a Drunken Sailor."

“Where do you get those songs?“ asked Pansy Parkinson (who in this timeline would never be the little queen of her yearmates, for no young snake would be so suicidally idiotic as to fight a fae for that or any other title.) “They’re beautiful, but who would write so many songs about being on a boat?”

“Why, the poor silly mortals of course. When it’s a laborious, oft-lethal task to sail across the sea, you get the awesome beauty only scars can hold.”

 

Year five a serpent's child came to the silly ruling-place of the mages, and her badge read not 'Rescue Mission' but 'Creeping In.' Half of the fighters fell to their knees before her glamour, and she told them things that sent them dancing through the veil with smiles on their lips.

 

Year six a girl who was not a girl held the hand of a boy who had too much goodness in him after all and smiled a most vindictive smile, because this little war of mages was keeping them distracted as the barriers fell. But she did like the boy, so she rocked him as he slept, and when he could not do his duty at the last it was she who did the job.

"I have done worse in my sleep, and everyone with half a brain knows it," she said to the fallen corpse. "I am Mab, I am Long Lankin, and what use is an old man to me?"

 

Year seven the children who were hated for no more than the dorm they slept in had become monsters under the weight of expectations, as had happened for generations uncounted. But this year that became so much more literal. This year the court of Winter came howling out of the North and the ungirl who had led them once led them again. She led them true against both sides of the little human war, with the Fair Folk army at their back.

Some worlds would have been more prepared. Some realities knew the danger and threw off the host of elven folk. This one had been self-obsessed and proud, and pride goeth before the fall. The Dark Lord died to a stone arrow through the back and half the defenders of the castle to the same, because faerie morals are not human ones. Then the survivors were granted places in the new Court, because faerie morals are not human ones.

"Yes, the book is better," said the woman who was no woman. "We be of one blood, thou and I."

**Author's Note:**

> The style I got from the story that helped to inspire me. There are bits of Pratchett's elves in here, and folk songs, and a lot of other things.


End file.
